


Winterhawk Fics and Ficlets

by sara_holmes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Bucky Barnes Feels, Clint Barton Feels, Deaf Clint Barton, For each chapter, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:57:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/pseuds/sara_holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of various Winterhawk drabbles and ficlets originally posted on Tumblr. Tags and pairings will be updated as I go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clint/Bucky - 616

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Tumblr: Clint and Bucky - "I’m flirting with you."  
>  **Warnings:** car crash flirting and Steve being a smartass. Katie also being a smartass.

“Kate. Katie. _Katie._ ” 

Katie looks at him over the top of her over-sized coffee mug, expression obscured by her sunglasses. “Don’t call me that.”

“Kate. Whatever. You know that mission we just went on?”

“Oh, the one where me, you and the Winter Soldier ended up as the designated sniper team, which is still super terrifying by the way.”

“Yeah, that one,” Clint says.

“What about it?”

“Did you notice Barnes being…weird?”

“Clinton. He’s the Winter Soldier. He _is_ weird. But don’t tell him I said that. He’s scary. Though less scary than the rumours when he’s busy flirting with you. Though that possibly just makes him scarier, the fact he can flirt and murder at the same time-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Clint protests, abruptly confused and taken aback. “He was not flirting with me.” 

Kate looks at him very deliberately. She puts her coffee mug down and slides her sunglasses down her nose just far enough down her nose just enough to give him _the look_. Clint hates the look.

“So, how was he being weird?”

Clint scratches the back of his head. “Um. Being nice? I guess. Making small talk. He’s a strong and silent type normally.”

Kate sighs like she’s disappointed in him, shoving her sunglasses up her nose again. “He was flirting with you,” she says, picking up her coffee. “I don’t know why though, you’re tragic.” This time her sigh is wistful. “Wish I had a super-strong badass flirting with me.”

“Not flirting,” Clint protests, but she’s not even listening. Sometimes, he doesn’t know why he bothers.

 

* * *

 

 

Clint knocks on the edge of the office door hesitantly, half in and half out the room. Steve is sitting there with his feet on his desk, frowning down at a report, but looks up as Clint edges in. 

“Afternoon, Hawkeye,” he says with a smile. “Everything okay?”

And Clint decides to just go for it. “You know Bucky, right?”

Steve’s mouth twitches. “Not sure who you mean.”

“Steve.”

“Known him over seventy years,” Steve says, thankfully letting the joke go. “What about him?”

“Well,” Clint says, no sure how to ask his Captain about the flirting techniques of his bestest buddy because he’s not entirely sure if he’s been subjected to said techniques or if it’s Katie’s over active imagination. “You know that mission we just went on-”

“He was flirting with you,” Steve says calmly, looking back down at his paperwork. “Was a bit bemused that you didn’t seem to notice.”

Clint’s mouth falls open. “Wait, what?”

Steve snorts. “He’s right, you can be oblivious. Well, you three are going out again in two days, so maybe actually brush up on your skills, hmm?”

And Clint can’t believe a ninety year old is giving him advice about flirting. He says as much, and Steve kicks him out of his office. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Nat? Nat? Tasha? Light of my life?”

“Clint, go away before I stab you.”

“Nat. Kate and Steve-”

“Think that Bucky is flirting with you. He is.”

“Oh god.”

“There, there, Hawkeye. You’ve slept with me and come out with all of your limbs intact. I’m pretty sure you can handle Barnes.”

“…that’s not helpful.”

“I live to serve. Now go. You have a jet to catch and an assassin to flirt with.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So….” Clint says, twirling an arrow between his fingers as Bucky sets up his sniper rifle, kneeling on the ground. His fingers move deftly over the metal and Clint can’t stop staring. “We all set?”

Bucky nods, a long slow dip of his chin. “Yeah,” he says, and then he turns to look Clint slowly up and down. “Yeah, looking good.”

He hears a giggle behind him and tries to step back and stamp on Kate’s foot. She’s too quick for him.

“I’ll take the six,” she calls breezily. “Hawkeye, you can maintain front position with Winter Soldier.”

“I’m happy to take that position, how ‘bout you?” Bucky says to Clint, who promptly forgets how to talk. Bucky’s mouth hitches in the ghost of a smirk and Clint would bet his last dollar that Kate is trying her damnest not to laugh at him right now.

“Um. Yeah,” he says, and then wants to kick himself because, _um, yeah?!_

“Good,” Bucky says easily, eyes on Clint’s. “Let me know if any other position is better for you.”

And this time he does smirk, and then gracefully drops to the floor, lying prone with his sniper rifle in position. Clint’s eyes travel across his back and down to his ass before he can mentally slap himself. He stands still for a moment, and then makes his feet move and sits down next to Bucky, bow in hand.

“How’s your ankle?” Bucky murmurs as Clint gets comfortable.

“What? Oh yeah, fine,” Clint says, and when Bucky nods and half-smiles at him, it’s not a flirty smirk but something a bit more genuine.

Clint is more confused than ever.

“So, I hear you went to talk to Steve about our last mission,” Bucky suddenly says out of nowhere. “And Nat.”

 _Traitors_ , Clint thinks silently. 

“Why was that?” Bucky asks casually.

Clint opens his mouth, but Kate beats him too it. “Because he’s an idiot who didn’t notice you flirting with him. And he had to go and ask, because he’s that dumb.”

“Traitor,” Clint says out loud. Kate just smiles and waves, and Bucky huffs out a laugh.

“You might be an idiot, but lucky you got a pretty face to make up for it,” he says, and then glances at Clint. “Your ass ain’t half bad, either.”

Behind them, Kate makes a funny sound. Clint wonders if he could get away with shooting her.

“Hey Hawkeye,” Bucky says, and Clint manages a sort of _‘mmmhmmyeah?’_ back at him. “Just so we’re clear. I’m flirting with you.”

“Yeah, I got that this time around,” Clint says, scratching his head. And then, because he’s insane, “Though I can’t flirt back because I left my best moves at home. How about you swing by my apartment later and I’ll show you?”

And Kate groans and mutters _‘awful, Clint, how are you even alive, how do you get through the day without hurting yourself,’_ in the background, but Bucky is grinning at him, eyes bright behind the domino mask. 

“You got yourself a deal.”


	2. Clint/Bucky - MCU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt: Winterhawk - "Can I kiss you?"  
>  **Warnings:** Fluff.

And Clint says it so casually that Bucky’s not sure he’s heard right.

“Hey, can I kiss you?”

Clint’s sprawled out on the couch on his back, top of his head just touching Bucky’s thigh. As he says it, he tips his head back, craning his neck so he can meet Bucky’s eyes. He looks honest and slightly hopeful, though that’s not what has Bucky frozen in place. His fingers have stopped where they were absently-mindedly stroking over Clint’s collarbone, his whole body going still. His mind has gone utterly blank, waiting for input or instruction-

“Buck? Aw, sorry man,” Clint says, and he’s sitting up, pushing himself vertical and grimacing slightly. He runs a hand over his head, self-conscious. “I just thought with the whole,” he stops, waving a hand vaguely between them both. “The hanging out and the bonding and the kind of handsy thing we’ve got going on.”

“No,” Bucky says abruptly, finding his voice. “You thought right.”

Clint doesn’t look convinced. “Then what’s with the face?”

“You asked,” Bucky says, still not quite processing it himself. “You didn’t just…you asked?”

And it comes out like a question and he hates _hates_ that insecure lilt that betrays him, because he’s spending so much energy on telling himself he’s worth this, that Steve is right and he can get past what happened, and here he is letting the clawing doubt and vicious voice in his head win.

“Um, yeah?” Clint says, and it sounds like a question too. “Enthusiastic consent is definitely one of my turn-ons. Not that I’m asking to go – I mean, not like just kissing you would turn me on. I mean, it probably would…”

He trails off, looking plaintive and a little betrayed. “Why don’t you hit me to stop me talking like you usually do when I’m making an ass of myself?”

It startles a laugh out of Bucky, rough and ragged around the edges. “Just…you’re asking me. You’re giving me the choice. The guy who is amazingly historically bad at making choices. I mean, the general trajectory of my life-”

He mimes a nosedive with his metal hand. Clint sends him an exasperated look. “Don’t wanna kiss you now you’re being all doom and gloom. And I might be a little offended at that. You’re not brainwashed, you no longer twitch when anyone says _Winter Soldier_ , you’re safe here with us and you now hang out with me,” he says. “I’d say you’re on an up.”

Bucky shrugs. “Never lasts.”

Clint huffs and flops back onto his back again, this time with his head in Bucky’s lap. “Doom and gloom,” he repeats. “Grumpy cat. Tiniest violin. Sad Pepe.”

And Bucky has no idea what any of the words are that have just come out of Clint’s mouth, but he kinda guesses he’s being mocked. Which he resents but also appreciates because there aren’t many people who will dare even look his way twice, let alone attempt to joke with him.

But thinking again, there aren’t many people who would willingly offer Bucky a choice. Most people seem to think giving him any agency whatsoever is going to end in catastrophic violence and murder. Which admittedly, it sometimes does, but only directed at the bad guys. Bucky knows what he’s doing. And apparently Barton trusts in that.  

“Hey Barton.”

“Yes, Grumpy-Cat?”

“Ask me again.”

Clint’s eyes open and he looks up at Bucky with his mouth curving in a smile. “Can I kiss you?”

And Bucky answers by leaning down, pressing his mouth to Clint’s in a long, slow kiss, Clint’s hand coming up to cup his jaw, thumb stroking idly at his stubble. When he pulls back, Clint is grinning.

“Still grumpy?”

Bucky hums. “I’ll get back to you on that,” he says, and he leans down to kiss him again.

 

 


	3. Clint/Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a Tumblr prompt meme - Winterhawk #3 'things you said too quietly', and #14 'things you said after you kissed me.'  
>  **Warnings:** Fluff.

 

 

 

 

The first time they kiss, it’s after a three day battle against genetically modified dinosaurs, and they’re both sweaty and covered in concrete dust and  _exhausted_. They collapse into each other in the back of the quinjet, and Bucky is turning Clint’s face up with a clumsy hand and kissing him gently on the mouth. He murmurs something that Clint’s hearing aids don’t catch, and Clint shrugs it off. If Bucky needed him to hear it, he’d say it louder.

The second time is back in the tower, when the exhaustion is giving away to  _thank-fuck-everyone-is-okay_  adrenaline. Clint stumbles out of his bathroom with only a towel on his hips to find Bucky waiting for him, freshly showered and tapping his foot with impatient jitters.

Clint gets all of a syllable out before Bucky is  _right there_ , kissing him hot and hard, hands catching his hips and walking him back towards the bed.

When Bucky asks if it’s okay, if Clint wants to, his voice is strong and loud enough for Clint to hear. When he cries out Clint’s name it’s definitely loud enough for Clint to hear.

But when they lie there, shivering with aftershocks and panting gently into each-others mouths, loose-limbed and clumsy from orgasm, he breathes out slowly and murmurs something Clint has no hope of hearing.

Clint lifts his head in question, but Bucky’s eyes are closed. He mentally shrugs and presses closer, shivering as Bucky’s metal hand traces down the knobs of his spine.

The third, fourth, fifth times are the same. Then Clint loses count. It seems every time they kiss, every private moment between them is sealed by softly murmured words that elude both Clint and his hearing aids.

It’s months since it all first started, and Bucky is away on a mission with Natasha when Tony presents Clint with two minute, in-ear hearing aids. He’s excited and pleased, rattling off specs and talking about battery life like he’s gushing about the achievements of his favourite child.

“You’ll be able to hear everything,” he finishes triumphantly. “Well, not everything. But a load more than you can right now with those outdated pieces of trash.”

And Clint grins, excitement swirling in his belly as he swaps his old hearing aids for the new ones.

He has to stop. Clutches the edge of the counter, swallowing hard and grinning helplessly. He can hear the TV in the background. Can actually make out the words Steve is saying into a cellphone on the other side of the room, instead of just the indistinct rumble of his voice. It’s still difficult to pick out the layers, but it’s a thousand times clearer and sharper.

He grabs Tony by the shoulders and kisses him square on the mouth. “You are a fucking genius,” he says, as Tony makes a wild sound of protest and wriggles free. Across the room, Steve is staring with a strange almost wounded expression on his face, cellphone forgotten in his hand.

“Don’t do that,” Tony says, oblivious to Steve and pulling a face at Clint, making a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks for the sentiment, but I really don’t want to be beaten up by your cyborg boyfriend.”

Clint just cackles with laughter, feeling elated.  He’s already thinking about what it means for him and Bucky; he’ll be able to hear Bucky breathing as he sleeps at Clint’s side, will able to have whispered conversations when they’re on missions or watching TV, will be able to hear every minute gasp and hitch of breath when they’re having sex.

God, he needs Bucky to get back  _now._

His wish is granted twenty excruciating hours later. It’s three am when Bucky and Nat get back, and Clint hears the elevator door open and the footsteps announcing their return, and Bucky is striding over to him, looking relieved and happy and exhausted-

Clint stands up to meet him and he can’t help but smile, but then Bucky’s hands are on his waist and he’s pulling Clint in and something suddenly occurs to him.

“Wait!”

Bucky’s expression goes confused, face a few inches from Clint’s. The moment pauses, holds its breath.

“I can hear you,” Clint says. “I mean, Tony made me new hearing aids. I can hear loads more. Um. I know you say, sometimes. I mean, when we’re…”

They’ve never mentioned the things that Bucky says after they kiss, the quiet words he’s not yet shared. As Clint trails off helpless, he meets Clint’s eyes and then slowly pulls him in. Clint’s eyes flutter shut and he lets himself be kissed, anticipation swirling restlessly in his stomach.

Bucky pulls back. Slides his hands around Clint’s back, presses their bodies close and leans in so his mouth is right next to Clint’s ear.

“Ya rad, chto ty so mnoy.”

And Clint’s mouth drops open because fucking  _Russian_. “You asshole,” he says through his own laughter, and leans in to kiss that smirking mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are wondering - on that occasion Bucky says ‘I’m glad you’re here with me’


	4. Clint/Bucky - MCU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt meme - Winterhawk #9 - things you said when I was crying.  
>  **Warnings** : Deaf!Clint, Clint feels, Bucky makes everything better, fluff

And Clint doesn’t hear the door to the conference room opening, or the person actually coming in because of course he’s taken his hearing aids out and thrown them across the room in a fit of petulant spite. First mission with the Avengers since he was deafened – hearing impaired, you’re not deaf, he hears Natasha unhelpfully pointing out – and of course he fucks up. Mishears an order from Cap. Almost gets Tony blown to hell.

Tony is fine and had been well clear of the explosion but if he hadn’t of been it would have been Clint’s fault. And of course Tony is being so nice and patient and understanding about it, which is the exact opposite of what Clint wants.

What he does hear though is the almighty bang of the door being slammed shut. He jerks his head up out of the defensive barricade of his arms, and his stomach drops as he sees Bucky walking towards him. He drops his head again, buries his face in his knees and folds his arms tighter around himself because there’s nothing like Bucky seeing him crying to be a perfect cherry on the top of his hefty slice of humiliation cake.

Bucky comes closer, and Clint feels him sit down next to him, shoulder knocking against Clint’s. He doesn’t try and coax Clint out from his bundle of frustrated tears, just sits there fiddling with a penknife.

His quiet presence actually serves to calm Clint down. After several minutes Clint manages to pull himself together to raise his head, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks over at Bucky and Bucky turns his head, meets his eyes.

Steve would ask if he was okay. Natasha would say it wasn’t his fault. 

“Well that fucking sucked,” Bucky says, close enough to just be audible.

And the knot of upset in Clint’s chest abates. “Yeah, I fucked up.”

Bucky nods and then shrugs. “We all do every now and then,” he says, speaking just slowly enough so that Clint can lip-read him with ease. “Hey, last time Steve fucked up he crashed a plane in the arctic and was a popsicle for seventy years. All you did was mistime something and piss off Stark.”

Clint laughs, the sound thick and wavering. “He’s not pissed off, he said no big deal.”

“No, he’s pissed off,” Bucky says. “He was just being polite.”

Clint groans. “Tony Stark is being polite to spare my feelings? Oh man. Shoot me now.”

“Nah,” Bucky says. “I like you in one piece.”

He climbs to his feet, walks around the table and crouches down to carefully pick up Clint’s hearing aids. He walks back around to Clint, kneeling in front of him. Clint sighs and nods, and allows Bucky to carefully clip them back in place before reaching up to turn them on.

“They’re babying me,” he says.

“Yeah,” Bucky says matter-of-factly. “So go yell at them, ask Stark to get to work on those upgrades and then shower. You smell like explosion.”

And Clint smiles, watery but strong. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“No problem,” Bucky says gently, with his small hitched smile that doesn’t come out very often. “I know you won’t ask, because you’re you, but I’m here if you need me, gottit?”

He claps Clint on the shoulder and stands up, offering a hand. Clint contemplates what Bucky just said and takes it, allowing Bucky to haul him to his feet. “I might ask for some company,” he says, not letting go of Bucky’s hand. Bucky isn’t pulling away either. “And you’re pretty good at making me feel better.”

“Yeah? Well you’re not crying anymore, so I guess,” Bucky shrugs.

Clint sighs. “Can we pretend that never happened?”

“Nope,” Bucky says. “But I won’t mention it, if that’s what you want.”

“Please,” Clint says, and then on impulse and because why the fuck not, he leans in and kisses Bucky’s cheek. He pulls back, his own cheeks burning. “Uh. Thanks. That was a thanks. For knowing the right thing to say. And not making a big deal out of the crying.”

And Bucky just stares at him, looking a little stunned. Wincing internally and hoping he’s not just made things super-awkward, Clint tries to pull his hand out of Bucky’s; the next thing he knows is Bucky is hauling him in, wrapping both arms around his waist and kissing him full on the mouth.

Clint pulls back, hand on Bucky’s shoulder and still pressed up against him. “Is this a pity kiss?”

“Uh, you started it,” Bucky says with a raised eyebrow. “So, no.”

Clint cocks his head thoughtfully, heart skipping behind his ribs and stomach swooping with delight and anticipation. “Okay. So, yelling and showering and then more not-pity kissing?”

“Or,” Bucky says, and he crouches down slightly, hands finding their way to the back of Clint’s thighs. Without warning, he lifts him up and dumps him unceremoniously on the conference table, standing close between his thighs. “Or the not-pity kissing first?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” Clint says breathlessly, and Bucky just rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss him again.


	5. Bucky/Clint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt Meme - Winterhawk #18 - things you said when you were scared.  
>  **Warnings:** humour, dangerous situations, buried alive, happy ending, no-one gets hurt, Clint is hella scared, claustrophobia, Bucky saves the day, fluff, kissing and stuff.

“I swear to god I will suck the dick of whoever gets me out of here.”

And Clint’s voice is shaking violently, and by the dim glow of the flashlight that’s been tossed cruelly and deliberately down by their feet, Bucky can see that his eyes are clenched tightly shut. He’s terrified; if the tone of voice didn’t give it away, then the trembling hands would have done.

Bucky is pretty scared himself, to be fair. It’s not every day you and your mission partner get knocked out and wake up squashed together and buried in a pine box. The bad guys are getting creative, it would seem.

“What if Natasha or Jess rescue us?” Bucky says, carefully feeling the seams of the box – he’s not thinking coffin because that implies death and he is not going to die down here – for weak spots.

“Then I will spent the next week with my face between their legs.”

“Sex with the ex, terrible idea,” Bucky says. He shoves at the corner of the box and hears a scattering of dirt and stones fall down into their makeshift prison. “Calm down.”

“You calm down,” Clint snaps back, and he reaches up and punches at the lid of the box with a noise of rage and despair. “I like high spaces and distances and everything that this is not-”

“Clint,” Bucky says, and he grabs hold of Clint’s hand, gripping it tightly. “The more you panic the quicker you use oxygen. I need you to calm the fuck down.”

And Clint does. He exhales shakily and then nods. His hand is still shaking in Bucky’s, and Bucky moves so their fingers are interlocked, thumb stroking over Clint’s in an attempt at reassurance.

“Okay. We can either wait for rescue, but we only have a window of about five hours,” Bucky says. “Or we make a break for it. It seems like loose dirt above us, so if we’re buried six feet under then we’ll be able to scramble out. If we’re deeper, or if there’s anything else above us, we’re fucked.”

“I am not staying down here for five hours,” Clint says vehemently. “As much as I’ve always wanted to be pressed up against you, this is not how I imagined it going down.”

“Alright,” Bucky says grimly, and lets go of Clint’s hand. He shifts, presses his shoulders back against the bottom of the box. “Take a deep breath and get ready.”

***

And Bucky breaks the surface with a gasp, lungs filling with fresh, cool air. Coughing, he hauls his way out of the dirt, grasping for solid ground. The moment he can he turns, shoving his metal arm back down into the dirt and his heart leaps as he finds warm fingers; he grabs hold and hauls Clint out after him. Clint comes up choking and retching, and Bucky falls onto his back with Clint atop him, legs still half in the makeshift grave and head on Bucky’s chest.

They both lie there, panting for breath. They’re in the middle of fucking nowhere, a grassy clearing surrounded by trees, nothing but the sound of cicadas and the wind rustling the leaves disturbing the peace around them. Fucking christ, it’s a good job they didn’t wait to be rescued.

“Guess I’m sucking your dick then, you rescued us,” Clint says hoarsely, making no attempt to move. The sun beats down from overhead and Bucky has never been so glad to feel warmth on his face.

He laughs weakly. “I’m not holding you to things said when you were scared of dying.”

“I’m not scared anymore, now drop your pants.”

And Bucky is laughing helplessly. He reaches down to hook his hands under Clint’s arms, hauling him the rest of the way out of the dirt so he’s lying fully on top of him, chest to chest. His heart is thudding with adrenaline and he cannot get over how glad he is to have gotten Clint out of there safely.

“Wrong direction,” Clint says, bracing his elbows on the ground either side of Bucky’s head, so they’re almost nose to nose. “I’m now further away from your dick.”

“Right where I want you,” Bucky says, and tilts his head up to kiss Clint right on the mouth.


	6. Clint/Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt meme -Winterhawk #5 - things you didn't say at all. 
> 
> **Warnings: Major character death.** Angst. Love. 
> 
> Yes, I once said that I would never write major character death because I just couldn't do it. Well, apparently I can.

And it doesn’t matter what Steve said in that broken voice a few minutes ago. Standing outside the room helplessly like he needs to keep guard, needs to stop anything else from hurting Clint, like it’s not too late.

It looks nothing like Clint is just sleeping. It doesn’t even really look like Clint. Clint twitches when he sleeps, restless snuffles and unconscious finger jerks, hands playing with imaginary arrows. He sleeps with his mouth open, rumpled and snoring and drooling more often than not. He curls his body around Bucky’s like he’s searching for him in his sleep, grunts contentedly in the back of his throat when he finds sleep warm skin or cool metal plates.

This Clint is too still to be sleeping. Too pale. There’s still blood all over the side of his face. Bucky guesses no-one dares clean him up. If they do he officially goes from injured to dead, and no-one wants to face up to that.

“You are a reckless idiot,” Bucky says into the silence. His real hand is gripping Clint’s bow so tightly it’s going to break, not that it matters anymore. “You are a fucking idiot. But that kid is going to live. Thought you might like to know.”

That matters. It would matter to Clint, that there’s one more kid that will get to go home to her family.

Right now it doesn’t matter to Bucky. He knows it’s awful and terrible and selfish, but he doesn’t give a damn, because there are billions of people on this godforsaken planet and there was only one Clint Barton and he was  _Bucky’s_ and now he’s gone.

Bucky steps forwards. He looks down at the bow in his hand and then carefully rests it on the table beside Clint. He takes Clint’s fingers and gently wraps them around the riser.

“I love you,” he says unapologetically, and as the words slide free the grief and loss starts to coalesce in his chest, a screaming snarl of pain that he’s pretty sure signifies the beginning of the end for him. Whoever caused this is going to pay.

He leans down, gently kisses Clint goodbye. “I love you,” he repeats, metal hand resting over the strap of Clint’s quiver. His eyes burn, the words lock up in his throat. “I’m sorry I never said it when it mattered.”

 

 


	7. Clint/Bucky - MCU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt meme - Winterhawk #20: things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear
> 
>  **Warnings:** Fluff. And drunken painkiller-induced thoughts about trains. Typical Clint-style injury, and waking up in hospital.

Swimming slowly back into consciousness, Clint’s first thought is  _‘huh. I’m alive.’_

Secondly, he works out he’s in a bed, and he’s half sitting up, leaning back against something nice and soft. A hospital bed then, given the angle. His eyelids feel too heavy to open and he’s feeling more than mildly woozy, thoughts flailing around ineffectually and taking far too long to make sense.

He hazily remembers a skyscraper falling on him. The red and gold armor barreling in at ridiculous speeds and snatching him from beneath hundreds of thousands of tons of concrete and steel. Man, being saved by Iron Man feels altogether too much like he’s been hit by a  _train._

He concentrates all his energy into movement. He manages to twitch both sets of fingers which means he’s still got both his arms which means he can still be Hawkeye. That’s a relief.

There’s a distant buzzing, rumbling sound and he thinks for a moment that it’s actually a train passing through, but then his thoughts re-order themselves and he works out it’s a voice. A deep voice. Not a train, luckily. He’s pretty sure he can’t handle being hit by a train twice.

Inwardly, he laughs. Ha. He won a fight against a train.

Slowly, the voice becomes more voice like, and with giddy delight he realises that it’s  _Bucky_. Bucky is here, which means any trains that are coming to get him are going to be blown up with swift and extreme prejudice, because Bucky hates trains too.

“-not going anywhere,” the train says angrily, and no wait, that’s Bucky saying that. Good. Clint doesn’t want him to go anywhere.

“There’s nothing you can do, Agent Barnes,” another voice says.

“I am not going anywhere,” Bucky says again, sounding irritated, like he does when he’s just woken up. Hey, waking up. That’s something Clint should try and do, right?”

“She’s right, Buck,” Steve says, and oh no Clint is not waking up if Steve is here because Steve yells when they get themselves hurt. “You’ve been here for hours-”

“I am not leaving until he wakes up,” Bucky says, and his voice cracks. “ _Steve._ ”

And something must happen that only awake people can see, because when Steve talks again, it makes no sense.

“Didn’t realise it was like that.”

“It’s not,” Bucky says. “But – I don’t know.”

“Buck, come on-”

“I love him, alright?” Bucky says forcefully. “Don’t – Steve, don’t look like that, stop laughing you punk, I swear to god if you tell him I’m gonna kill you-”

And Bucky loves him? Wow. Well, that’s a nice thought. Really nice. It floats around his brain for a while, content and bright and warm. Maybe he should wake up, tell Bucky he loves him too.


	8. Clint/Bucky - 616 characters but not canon to any timelines that currently exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt meme - Winterhawk #22, things you said after it was over.
> 
>  **Warnings:** past infidelity, Clint being a hot mess, misunderstanding, angst, not exactly a happy ending but not utterly hopeless either, all the feels, Clint’s appalling lack of self-esteem, fraction!Hawkeye, 616!Bucky

The tension weighs so heavily on the air it’s like a living, breathing entity, doing its best to smother both the occupants of the weapons locker. It’s been this way for weeks, awkward and oppressive, slitting the throat of easy conversation as one or the other walks into an already claimed room, turning friendly spaces into battlegrounds. It’s only made worse by both participants’ utter unwillingness to even acknowledge the tension, by their determination to just keep going until it goes away.

Jaw set, Clint carries on checking comm devices, pulling them methodically from the shelves and checking all channels before putting them back and starting on the next set. He’d turn on his heel and walk straight back out of the too-small room but Steve has asked him to do this job, and for some unfathomable reason Steve doesn’t hate his guts right now so he’s going to do as he’s asked.

He’s ashamed to admit that he’s more desperate for Steve’s approval than ever.

Across the room, standing with his side to Clint – not his back, that would show a level of trust that Clint certainly doesn’t deserve anymore – Bucky is carefully checking over the batch of new sniper sights that Tony made for him. Clint finds himself getting irritated by it, because he knows full well that Bucky is going to pick the S3 model so he doesn’t need to go over all four of the damn things again and again.

The irritation grows, pulsing under his sternum, his innards feeling all swollen and displaced. Not for the first time he wants to break the silence that’s come between them, but what the hell is he even meant to say? I’m sorry this thing between us ended before it even properly started? I’m sorry you caught me with my head between the thighs of the ridiculously hot new SHIELD liaison agent? I’m sorry you bothered to trust me when everyone warned you I was a liability? I’m sorry you’ve been acting like you don’t give a shit, that you said it didn’t matter, it was no big deal?

Too many questions. Utterly pointless.

The click of the sniper sights being mounted and dismounted again makes him want to scream. He doesn’t; instead he slams the comm unit down on the workbench, loud enough to shake the void between them.

“I’m sorry, alright?”

The words are out there before he can snatch them back, tumbling free without permission. The sickness in his gut swirls, frightened of what will happen now he’s made the first move. There’s a pause, but then the methodical clicking starts up again. “Don’t need to be sorry,” Bucky says indifferently. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Then why the fuck are you acting like this?!” Clint demands, unable to stop himself now he’s started.

“Not acting like nothin’” Bucky says coldly.

“Bullshit,” Clint snaps. “It feels like hell in here.”

Bucky stops playing with the sights. He exhales audibly, head dipping low and then slowly turns to face Clint. “Let it go.”

“I can’t,” Clint says. “I’m  _sorry_.”

Bucky’s expression goes hard. “What are you even sorry for, huh?” he asks, and there’s so much scorn in his voice that Clint wants to curl up and die. “Look, we got close, you decided you didn’t want to wait for the sex so decided to keep your dick warm somewhere else.”

“That’s not what-”

“Not what happened?” Bucky asks incredulously, folding his arms across his chest. “That’s exactly what happened.”

“No-”

“Then what? What, Clint?”

“I didn’t think you were serious! I heard Steve say you weren’t ready for commitment and it fucking hung around in my brain, and I know you weren’t ready for sex and  _I didn’t care_ , but-”

“So instead of talking to me about it you decided to sabotage everything before you got hurt,” Bucky interrupts bitterly. “Wow. Your lack of self-esteem is astounding.”

“No, it was-” Clint tries, and he’s somehow gone from angry to desperate, and he’s horrified at the way his eyes feel too warm, the way his throat has gone tight.

“See, I know everything in my life goes south sooner or later,” Bucky says. “But at least I never do it to myself.”

And Clint has no response to that. The remnants of everything between them lie shattered on the floor, fragile things that Clint doesn’t know how to put back together.

“I think I love you, Clint,” Bucky says, and Clint has to shut his eyes, the words like knives. “But I can’t make you give a shit if you’re too scared.”

Clint doesn’t open his eyes. He listens to the sounds of Bucky packing up his rifle and the sights, his boots moving on the metal floor.

“So. It’s definitely over between us, right?”

“I just told you I loved you, and you ask  _that,_ ” Bucky says, and now he sounds tired and sad. “Get your fucking act together, Clint. Stop – stop running away. It’s the worst thing about you.”

He leaves the room without another word. Clint lifts both hands to his face, clamping his palms to his eyes and breathing unsteadily through his mouth. The broken pieces wait patiently for him to decide, because really it’s not that he doesn’t know how to try to put them back together, it’s whether he’s willing to risk it and try.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill from Tumblr - short stories while I work through some stuff :)

When Steve puts the phone down, his face is ashen and he’s looking like he might throw up. “Bucky’s been arrested,” he says, voice strained. He pushes to his feet, sending the chair behind him screeching back.

“Oh, boy,” Tony mutters. “I take it you need lawyers and money?”

“Probably,” Steve says, phone already at back at his ear. “Nat, I need you - Oh thank god, will you stay there and make sure nothing happens without - yes, I’m coming, I’ll be there as soon as I can, I’ll take the bike.”

“No you won’t, forecast is a blizzard this afternoon; you’ll let me drive you,” Tony says, nimbly stepping past Steve and reaching up to take the phone from him. “Nat, do I need armor?”

“No, but Clint might,” Natasha says, and Tony almost pauses in place because is that laughter in her voice?

* * *

“You arrested him for _what?_ ” Steve repeats incredulously, staring through the glass at Bucky, who is handcuffed and sat in a chair, drumming the fingers of his metal hand against the table in front of him, scowl set firmly in place. It’s cold down here as well, which is probably making Bucky grumpy as all hell too.

The SHIELD agent on their side of the glass only comes up to Steve’s chest, but is remarkably standing firm, arms folded across his chest like he’s steeling for a fight. Tony thinks the guy must be certifiably insane, because Steve’s eye is twitching and the grip he has on his shield is getting tighter and tighter.

“We detained him because he threatened to stab someone,” the agent says mulishly. “On SHIELD premises.”

“Natasha threatens to stab people all the time!”

“Please, I’m not that crass,” Natasha says from behind him. “I never threaten. I just imply.”

“Whatever,” Steve says, nostrils flaring. “That is _not_ enough to arrest him.”

“Yes It is,” the agent replies. Over his shoulder, Sharon is just visible as she raises her eyebrows in either alarm or mild admiration at the stubbornness, but she doesn’t look up from her paperwork. Tony’s disappointed; he bets if he catches her eye he can get her to laugh.

“Where is Clint, anyway?” Natasha asks.

“In secure lockdown,” the agent says. “The Winter Soldier threatened to stab him, Captain. That’s a level three incident.”

Steve takes a very deliberate calming breath, just like his therapist has told him to do. Tony can literally see him counting to ten and back again. “Can I talk to Bucky?” he asks very calmly. In fact, he sounds so calm that it’s easy to tell just how pissed he is.  

“No,” the agent says, and Steve full-body twitches. “But you can see Hawkeye, if you want? Agent Carter can take you down.”

“Sure she can,” Sharon says, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she walks past them, sheaf of papers held in the crook of her arm. “This way, Avengers.”

* * *

Clint looks thrilled to see them when they find him; he’s in a small room not unlike a prison cell, but with added comforts such as a bed, a bookcase and TV. It’s carpeted and has calming pictures of lakes on the wall, and seems a hell of a lot warmer than the cell Bucky is currently in. The homely illusion is kind of shattered at the sight of the door, however; it’s made of bullet-proof glass, which is easily four inches thick.

“What the hell, Clint,” Steve asks wearily, rubbing at his temple.

“I’m in protective custody,” Clint says, gesturing to the room. “Free Netflix and an en-suite, though the meal options are pretty shitty.”

“Why are you in protective custody?” Tony presses, leaning his shoulder against the door and peering into the room.

“Oh, uh,” Clint says, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “There was a misunderstanding. Um. I may have been winding Bucky up?”

“Wound him up so much that he threatened to stab you?!”

“He wasn’t serious!” Clint insists. “Okay. So I was asked to come in to work, right, and he followed me here, and I kept telling bad jokes and he hated them so bad that I just kept going, and then we were in the cafeteria when I said something _really_ dumb, and so he threatened to stab me if I kept making puns.”

“Literally,” Sharon calls from the end of the corridor, where she and Nat are standing close, heads bent over Nat’s phone. “Just so that it was clear that the stabbing wouldn’t be metaphorical, he said that if you made one more bad pun he would literally stab you.”

“What did you even _say?_ ” Steve asks, though he looks like he’s regretting asking already.

“Well, first off there was something about a religious experience with a holey bagel, then the joke about my anti-gravity book, and then when we got here Coulson asked me to get my camouflage vest and I said I couldn’t find it,” Clint checks off on his fingers. “Then there was one about that schizophrenic super-villain not using his inside voice, and then Agent Dalmar came to ask me about translating, asking if I knew sign language-”

Tony’s there in a milisecond. He can’t resist.“And you told him yes, it’s pretty handy,” he says, and Clint grins and mimes shooting finger guns at him. Tony snorts out a laugh. “No wonder he threatened to stab you, they are some awful jokes, Hawkguy.”

“Agreed,” Steve says dryly. “Come on, let’s get you out of there, then we can deal with Bucky.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sharon calls again. “Just ask Clint for the details of his next-of-kin, so they can be informed of his release. Standard procedure when someone’s at risk.”

Momentarily stymied, Tony looks at Steve who is looking at Clint, who has suddenly gone a very interesting shade of pink.

“Well,” Clint says, holding out a placating hand. “Me and Bucky thought it’d be good…well, there were reasons. And beer. Lots of beer. And now Bucky is my official next-of-kin on all the SHIELD paperwork?”

 _Well_ , Tony thinks, wondering whether to laugh or turn around and go get back into his Audi while leaving the others here to deal with this screw-up. _That’s certainly one way to render Steve Rogers speechless._

* * *

After three hours, eight pieces of paperwork, four SHIELD agents, one lawyer and an incident in which Steve pulls rank both spectacularly and belligerently, both Bucky and Clint are free to go. Neither of them seem remotely bothered by their stint in lock-down; the only thing Bucky seems pissed about is Clint’s utter lack of repentance regarding his jokes.

As they wind their way through the corridors of SHIELD towards the exit, Clint and Bucky walk several steps ahead of Steve and Tony, bickering loudly and pushing and shoving at each other’s shoulders in a way that Tony thinks suggests that there’s some pretty solid unresolved - or maybe even resolved yet ongoing - sexual tension there. And that’s even without considering the whole next-of-kin thing.

He nudges Steve with his elbow as they cross the atrium. “Fifty bucks says they’re banging,” he says, and Steve looks heavenward, probably counting to ten again.

In front of them, Bucky and Clint have ground to a halt a few few away from freedom; Bucky is looking out of the glass doors with dismay, clearly displeased with the snow that has started to fall while he’s been underground.

“Snow!” Clint exclaims happily, and grins, looking at Bucky out of the corner of his eye. “Five-thirty. White on time.”

Tony can only sigh as Bucky lunges for Clint, and all around them, alarms start to blare.


	10. Clint/Bucky probably MCU

All eyes are on Clint. Only six pairs, which in his humble opinion is still _way_ too many for something like this. Man, they should have eloped. Gone to Vegas and done the drive-thru on Bucky’s bike, married in twenty seconds flat with no-one there looking at him. **  
**

“Uh, I never thought I’d be here, doing this,” he says, voice sounding weird and too loud. Maybe his hearing aids are screwing up again. Would it be rude if he paused the ceremony and got Tony to check them? Possibly. Probably. Though he needs to be able to hear properly, god, Bucky will be saying vows as well and Clint really wants to be able to hear them, hear what Bucky has to say-

Bucky lifts a very eloquent eyebrow, looking amused. He bites his bottom lip like he’s holding back a laugh, and suddenly it’s okay and Clint can remember how to breathe.

He clears his throat. “I mean, maybe I thought I’d get married, but I didn’t think...I kind of thought I’d somehow skip this whole nightmare and get straight to the being married part? Oh, fuck it. Vows.”

He shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, badly worn and refolded so many times that the edges have gone soft and the ink has started to blur. Bucky just watches him with calm, careful eyes, hands shoved in his pockets and rocking on his heels like they’re in line at the grocery store and not getting married.

“Uh,” Clint says, and then decides to just go for it. “Okay. I love you, with your bad sense of humor and your willingness to try and make me smile even when you’re having a shitty day. I love that you always try to do better, that whenever something goes wrong you try and make it right, to do better and be a better man.”

He risks a glance up. Bucky’s eyes are very bright.

“I vow to always try and do the same for you,” Clint says quietly. “I vow to be by your side, to do my damnest to be a better man, too. I vow to be there for you whenever you need me, and to be home for you as long as you want me. I vow to always have your back, and trust you to have mine. In sickness and health and til death do us part, and all that shit.”

There’s a ripple of laughter from behind him; he can practically sense Nat rolling her eyes. He doesn’t care about that, though. He cares about Bucky, who is staring at him like he’s something new and wonderful.

“Mister Barnes, you have vows prepared?” the Minister says calmly, quietly. Bucky nods, eyes still on Clint’s as he slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper of his own.

He clears his throat, looks down at the paper.

“You may be an idiot. But you’re my idiot.”

He folds the piece of paper back up and tucks it back into his jacket.

There’s five long-ass seconds of silence, and then Clint starts to laugh. “You fucking jerk,” he says through his laughter, ignoring the long-suffering look from the Minister. “I made an effort and you just half-ass it, you know what, fuck you.”

“Wait until the honeymoon,” Bucky says with a grin, and reaches forwards to grab Clint’s shirt in his metal hand, pulling him in for a kiss.


	11. Clint/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is technically in Counterpart verse, though the main story hasn't gotten there yet. You can read this as some dumb standalone fluff though.

“There we go, there we go,” Bucky says softly, gently lifting Anna out of her crib and holding her up in his metal arm, shushing as she whines at him, chubby fists jerking irritably. He runs a knuckle down her cheek, swaying back and forth without realizing he’s doing it. It doesn’t have the intended effect; she screws up her face and starts to cry.

“Aw, baby, don’t do it to me,” Bucky implores, though he’s smiling. Anna carries on with her grouching, not quite crying properly but clearly displeased. “Baby, baby, don’t, you’re all good, everything’s good,” Bucky half-says, half-sings. He looks over his shoulder at Clint, who is still dead out asleep on his front, snoring lightly.

“Clint,” Bucky says, voice low. “Clint.”

Clint snores on, dead to the world. Bucky sighs, and then kicks the bed, hard. “Clint.”

That at least wakes Clint; he jerks his head up off the pillow, blinking around blearily. “Wha? What’s happening? Anna? What?”

He tries to get up off the bed, getting his legs twisted up in the blanket and almost pitching himself onto the floor.

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Bucky says. “Go get me a bottle.”

“Bottle,” Clint repeats, blinking hard. He looks like shit, Bucky thinks. Like he’s not slept in weeks, let alone days, like he’s one pause away from falling asleep standing.

“Kitchen,” Bucky prompts, and Clint jerks into action, stumbling towards the kitchen.

Bucky snorts with laughter, turning his attention back to Anna, hitching her up a little so he can lean down and press a kiss to her tiny fingers. God, she’s so fucking small. “Hey little one,” he murmurs against her fingers, and sleepy eyes open to blink at him, looking just like her Da. “Hello little lady Barton, little heartbreaker, you.”

She yawns widely, and Bucky can’t help but smile, hopelessly dumb with love. “Look at me, some sort of moron, loving two Bartons,” he says. “Yeah I’m talking about you, baby.”

She seems to like the nonsense he’s spouting, settling down a little and yawning widely, tiny fingers catching against his stubble. She won’t stay quiet for long though; the moment she remembers she’s hungry she’ll be off again. Just like her Da in that, too.

He hears Clint stumbling about in the kitchen: a clatter and a curse as he knocks something over, cupboards opening and thumping shut, the noise of the bottle warmer humming into life. Stupidly domestic, nothing he ever thought he could do. Nothing he ever thought he wanted.

“They can prise you out of my cold, dead hands,” he tells Anna, who is opening and closing her mouth like a baby bird. Bucky starts humming absently-mindedly to her, a melody from some rock song that had been playing in the car earlier that day. Invincible, the lyrics had said.

“You make me feel invincible,” he murmurs, sing-song voice just the way Anna likes it.

“You being all mushy and lame again?” Clint yawns from the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. His hair is a disaster, and his boxers are so low on his hips that Bucky is pretty sure gravity is going to win if he moves too quickly.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, unrepentant. “I’m a natural. Look at this, look at this gorgeous face. You try and say no to this face.”

Clint laughs tiredly, walks over to hook his chin over Bucky’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist. He reaches out with his free hand, gently rubbing his fingers over Anna’s downy-soft hair. He’s got that look again, like he can’t quite believe she’s here, that she’s theirs. It’s less shellshocked now though, more worn in and comfortable. Like he’s lucky that all this somehow ended up in his life.

“Invincible, huh?” he says, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s bare shoulder.

“Invincible,” Bucky confirms. “Indestructible. Goddamn, I’ll fight the world. Come on, I’ll go right now.”

Clint laughs again, mouth dragging against Bucky’s shoulder, a warm kiss against scarred skin. “Can we fight the world in the morning? I’m too tired to fight right now.”

“You get it though, yeah?” Bucky asks, stroking his palm over Anna’s head and feeling sucker-punched, giddy with it all. “How she gets me. How you both get me.”

In the kitchen, the bottle warmer beeps. Clint looks up at the doorway but doesn’t go straight away; he pauses to kiss Bucky’s shoulder again, nuzzling against him.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, pressing his finger against Anna’s palm so she can wrap her fingers around, holding on. “Invincible.”


	12. Clint/Bucky Zombie Apocalypse AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for the sort of gore and violence you could expect in a Zombie Apocalypse AU. Inspired by and shamelessly ripped off from the Walking Dead. 
> 
> Prompt - "Keep your eyes on me."

And if it weren’t bad enough that the whole world has gone to shit, that dead people are literally getting up and walking around and - god,  _ Phil _ \- eating people, but they seriously  _ cannot catch a break. _ This place was supposed to be safe; Nick had led them to the abandoned prison with its fences and walls and had said it was safe, and now here there are, scrabbling around on the floor of the disused cafeteria and trying to keep Bucky still and away from death. He’s stopped screaming, but he’s crying out and whimpering and begging Steve not to leave him, and in Clint’s opinion that’s worse.

“We gotta do something,” Steve manages to say, covered in blood and trying to wrestle Bucky still. They’ve seen bites before but this is  _ Bucky _ , part of their crew since day one, the one who always managed to get through without a scratch. He’s got more than a scratch now and he’s almost sick with it, hysterically trying to fight out of Steve’s grip. 

Steve isn’t letting up though. “We gotta-”

He swallows hard, looks around, clawing back control of himself. Bucky thrashes and Tony grunts in pain, trying to pin his legs down and paying no nevermind to his own broken ribs. 

At the door, the groaning and shrieking of the dead grows louder. “Whatever you must do, do it fast,” Thor shouts, pushing his massive shoulders against the door. Natasha and Jane are there too, backs pressed against the door and feet slip-sliding on the bloody floor. Clint grits his teeth, aiming between the gap between the doors that keeps widening and closing like a hungry mouth as the dead and the living push from either side. He can’t get a clear shot and he’s not about to waste an arrow- 

“Steve,” Bucky begs, eyes bright and wild. “Steve, just shoot me before I hurt anyone, just-”

“No,” Steve says through gritted teeth.

Bruce lifts the cloth from Bucky’s wrist, grimacing as more blood wells up, dripping down his hands and wrists. He clamps back down, shaking his head. “Steve, we have to do something and we have to do it now.”

Bucky tries to wrench free again. “Just kill me-”

“Bucky,  _ shut up!” _ Steve bellows, looking around. “Sam. Sam, get Thor’s axe.”   

“Steve, no-” Wanda cries out, but Sam is already there, staggering over to Thor and pulling the axe off of his belt, scrambling back over to Steve. Pietro curses and drops his gun, running over to drop down next to the tangle of bodies on the floor, pushing Wanda back and grasping Bucky’s arm, his hands covering Bruce’s. Pepper is there in an instant, pulling Wanda up and holding her to her chest, arms wrapped protectively around her as Wanda sobs. Tony looks up at Clint, panting with the effort of keeping Bucky in place.

“A hand, Hawkeye!”

Clint lowers his bow and slides over on his knees in front of Bucky. “Hey, Barnes,” he says, and reaches out to grab Bucky’s face in his hands, leaving bloody fingerprints over his jaw. “Hey, asshole, look at me.”

Bucky does. Gasping, his eyes find Clint’s, even as Sam slides in behind him, holding him in place so Steve can let go and take up the axe.

“That’s it, jerkoff, look at me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Bucky gasps. Steve is directing the others, and Bruce and Pietro are pulling Bucky’s arm out away from his body. Bucky seems to realize the plan and starts kicking again, close to sobbing.

“Hey! Come on, you’re giving Brooklyn a bad name,” Clint says. “Come on, you assholes are supposed to be tough. That’s it, keep your eyes on me.”

“I don’t want to die,” Bucky blurts out.

“You’re not gonna,” Clint says. “You’re too much of a prick to die. Who else is going to be a pain in my ass, huh?”

Bucky shudders, tears falling. “Steve,” he croaks out, going limp in Sam’s grip, allowing the others to pull his arm straight. “Steve is a pain in everyone’s ass.”

“Steve is about to be a real pain in your arm,” Clint says. “Hold still.”

“Oh my god, Clint, even I know that’s-” Tony says, but cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Steve, just do it.”

Steve stands up, takes the axe in two hands. Clint keeps his hands on Bucky’s face, shoving Tony out of the way and kneeling between his legs, so close that he can feel Bucky’s panicked, shallow breaths on his face. 

“I got you,” Clint says. “You get through this and I swear I’ll start being nice to you.”

“I get through this and I want my own bodyweight in whiskey and a blowjob,” Bucky gasps, teeth chattering.

“Done and done,” Clint says. “Just don’t die.”

Bucky is trying to laugh but it’s coming out as sobs. The door rattles and the dead continue to groan and scratch at the door. Natasha is shouting that they can’t hold it, and Tony is yelling at Steve to _do it_ , and Bruce is echoing the words, sharp and urgent.

And Steve is stepping forwards. “Bucky, I’m so sorry,” he says, voice shaking. He lifts the axe, and he swings. 

 

* * *

And Clint holds his breath, standing in the doorway with his bow fully drawn and waiting. He can see Bucky’s eyelids flickering as he wakes - though whether he wakes as living or dead is yet to be determined.

“Steve,” Clint calls carefully behind him, not taking his eyes off of Bucky as he slowly shifts atop the infirmary bed. “Steve.”

It’s Tony’s voice that calls back. “He’s on perimeter, what’s up?”

“Bucky,” Clint says, and Tony appears at his elbow, gun in hand.

“Shit,” Tony swears, and leans back out of the cell. “Pietro! Go and get Steve! Run!”

There’s an indistinct answering shout and Tony is cursing again, looking at Bucky. “You got him? Pietro! Get your butt down here!” He backs out of the cell, rushing to find Pietro. Clint doesn’t watch him go, just keeps his eyes fixed on Bucky as he shifts. 

It seems to last forever. The drag of Bucky’s heels against the sheets, the slow roll of his head as he turns from side to side. His mouth opening slightly as he breathes in, rattling and hoarse. Oh Christ, Clint can feel his heart pounding, his stomach twisting tight. If Bucky is - if he’s not - then Clint will have to -

“Put that thing down, Barton. I’m not dead yet, you fuckin’ asshole.”

And Bucky’s voice is rough and cracking and Clint never thought he’d be so goddamn pleased to hear it. He drops the tension from his bow and shoves the arrow back in his quiver as he strides forwards, sitting on the edge of Bucky’s bed and leaning over, putting a hand on his chest.

“The fuck,” Bucky mumbles as he tries to move his remaining hand and finds it stuck, cuffed to the bedframe up by his head. His other shoulder shifts, neatly bandaged stump lifting and falling back, jerking like he’s trying to lift the arm that’s no longer there. His eyes open fully, blinking in the light. 

“Precaution,” Clint says. “Jesus, Barnes. I thought - you scared the shit out of us.”

“Did Steve cut off my arm?” Bucky asks flatly, eyes opening wider as he looks straight up at the ceiling. 

“Yeah,” Clint says. “But it saved you.”

“Is everyone else okay?” Bucky asks, still staring straight up.

“Yeah,” Clint says. “We’re fine. Everyone accounted for. Rhodey and Maria came for us, got us out. Steve’s- Steve’s gonna be real glad to see you awake, bro.”

“Bro?” Bucky says, and finally winter-pale eyes turn towards Clint, clearer than Clint expected. “We don’t like each other.”

“I told you if you survived, I’d be nice to you,” Clint says, his hand pressing harder against Bucky’s chest. He feels all bent out of shape, not entirely sure what he’d have done if Bucky hadn’t made it. Yeah, they’ve been nothing but assholes to each other since they left New York all those months ago, but Clint finds he honestly can’t bear the thought of anything happening to Bucky. 

“You said if I survived I’d get whiskey and a blowjob.”

And Clint is laughing, pitching forwards so his forehead presses against Bucky’s chest next to his hand, and Bucky is laughing too, the sound hysterical and close to tears.

“It’s a date,” Clint says, rolling his forehead against Bucky’s chest. “My bunk, seven PM. I’ll see you there.”

“You’re not serious,” Bucky says, and Clint lifts his head up, propping his chin on Bucky’s sternum and looking him right in the eye.

“End of the world and all that,” he shrugs. “You’ll do.”

“I’ll do? I am a fuckin’ catch,” Bucky mumbles. “Kiss me, you jerk. I nearly died.”

“Whatever, you didn’t even lose a whole arm,” Clint says, but he’s leaning over and kissing Bucky anyway, stale breath and chapped lips be damned. Bucky kisses him back gently, more gently than Clint was expecting. He’d kiss him again but he can hear the banging and clanging of doors, and then Steve’s frantic voice echoing off the walls, joined by Tony’s and Bruce’s.

“I will pay you back in sex if you find me some painkillers,” Bucky says, flopping bonelessly back against the bed. “I think I’m going to hurl.”

“Whoring yourself out for narcotics, classy,” Clint says, and quickly presses a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Blowjobs for Vicodin,” Bucky calls, just as Steve appears in the doorway.

“What?” he asks, taken-aback.

“What?” Clint echoes, edging towards the door. 

“What?” Bucky asks, and there’s the rattle of metal on metal. “Steve. Steve, unlock me you fuckin’ ass.”

“Blowjobs?” Tony says, looking from Clint to Bucky.

“Not medically recommended right now?” Bruce says cautiously. “Bucky, how’re you feeling?”

“Like you cut my arm off and left me to die,” Bucky says, and then, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t mean it, don’t cry-”

Clint takes that as his cue. He shrugs at Tony and ducks out of the room, relief making him feel almost dizzy. He walks along the corridor and then stops, taking a moment to breathe and be grateful for everything he still has.


End file.
